


A Rage I Won't Deny

by babydraco



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 24/7 D/s, Ableist Language, Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Catholic Guilt, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Figging, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Safewords, Spanking, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve and Bucky know how to use the internet, Steve reads about abuse victims and gets upset, Sub!Bucky, Switching, Vibrators, mcu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydraco/pseuds/babydraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A  vague, loose, continuation of  the universe I established in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1511519/chapters/3193562%20">"I Still Choose You"</a>,  a kink meme prompt response about Bucky wanting Steve to be in charge after his Hydra ordeal, and for the author to also show the "non sexual aspects of  24/7 D/s".   It's also inspired by a comment I got about using safewords.    MCU,  a few months after Bucky has started to recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Friday morning**

Natasha was letting Steve and Bucky spend the weekend in her cabin upstate. Steve had told everyone they were doing “special training exercises”. Sam kept sniggering and murmuring “you mean _humping_ exercises”. Clint was even worse, he called them “sexercises”. Sam said “good one!” and they high fived. Bucky made a rude gesture at them that Steve wasn't allowed to make because he was Captain America. 

Bucky bought a 'blue raspberry crush' flavored slushy at the gas station, he slurped it through a thick straw as Steve sped up the highway in Natasha's sports car. It wasn't a power thing, that he was driving, Bucky didn't have a valid US driver's license. 

“Your tongue is blue,” Steve said after awhile, just to fill the silence that often occurred when Bucky found words too hard to form on his own. Bucky stuck his tongue out in the mirror to examine the novelty of the color. “Don't tell me you actually like those.” 

“They're not as good as when we were kids,” Bucky admitted. “But it's hot today.” He angled his head, asking for a kiss, Steve tasted fake berry flavor and corn syrup on his lips. It reminded him of carnivals and Coney Island, when Bucky was his cocky, dashing protector and they kissed on the beach in the dark while everyone else was watching the Fourth of July fireworks. 

“I want to talk to you about this weekend,” Steve said.

“I know, we're not really doing special fight training,” Bucky replied. “I got that from all the jokes.”

“Not fight training. But I am going to teach you new things. We need to work on our communication. Buck, I've- I've always stopped when you said 'no' or 'stop' 'cause I wanted you to feel safe and know I took your feelings seriously. But recently you said no to me, and it wasn't because you were hurt or scared, you just didn't want to do what I asked. And if you're at the point where you're comfortable doing that, then I think we can start using safewords.”

“Like, 'no,no no' means 'yes, yes, yes,” Bucky said. 

“Right. Um. I might do things to you that are scary. And you might want me to stop.”

“Scary things like an orgasm?” Bucky asked. 

“You see- your climax as something I _do to you_? I mean, I know it's too much for you sometimes but you're doing really well.”

“I'm getting better though.”

“Yeah, Buck, you are. You're doing real well at letting me make you feel good.” Steve tried not to feel sad at the way Bucky frowned out the window. Bucky didn't fear violence, or deprivation, but he'd started out reacting to the pure pleasure of an orgasm the way other people reacted to getting a shot at the doctor's. Not that Bucky handled a visit to the doctor all that well either. 

“But even if I want you to stop, I might not...want you to stop,” Bucky said awkwardly. “Like I think sometimes about you hurting me or forcing me so I don't have to choose or ask for it.”

“ I can...work with that,” Steve said. “But if you really hate it and you want to stop, we will.” He'd packed the Bucky Bear, a box of ice cream pops and some soothing cartoons in case of a full scale meltdown. “It's just for this weekend, it doesn't have to be a permanent change. And as far as not wanting to ask for things, I want you to remember that you _can always_ come to me and ask for what you want, even if what you want is for me to hurt you.” 

“Okay, can I refill my Slushy again?” 

"Sure." Steve turned in at the next franchise of the gas station chain. 

**Two weeks earlier**

_  
A few days earlier, Steve called Bucky into the living room and sat him down._

_“I got you a present. I was a little embarrassed about picking it out but the lady at the adult shop was really nice. This is supposed to be state of the art.” Steve gave Bucky the rectangular box covered in silver satin. Bucky opened it cautiously, as if whatever was inside could jump out and bite him. The box held an elegant silvery metal phallus, nestled in tissue paper. Bucky frowned._

_“It's to help you get used to the idea of having something inside you,” Steve had explained. “If you press this button, it vibrates. There's um, a few different settings depending on what you want.”_

_“Oh...”_

__

**Tuesday**

A few days later, while he was working on a drawing in his studio, he heard something smash in Bucky's room. Fearing it was an emergency, he ran in to check. Steve found the vibrator lying on the floor on the other side of the room, where it had crashed after Bucky apparently hurled it at the wall.

“You broke this? Bucky, why did you throw my gift at the wall?”

Bucky glared at the carpet, shrunk in on himself and twisting his hands together. Steve sighed unhappily. 

“I'm really disappointed in you, Bucky. I gave you an assignment and you didn't come through for me.” Bucky was so eager to please, with the need to obey and win approval so ingrained in him that Steve hoped the simple lecture would be enough. But what if this erratic behavior was some sort of regression? 

Steve grabbed masking tape from the desk in his art studio and wrapped it around the broken part of the toy. The dial and on/off switch were perfectly functional, it was just the cap to the battery casing that had fallen off. He handed it back to Bucky.

“I fixed it.” 

“ _Nooo_ ,” Bucky complained, but his tone didn't suggest any panic or genuine upset, in fact, he was whining and that was annoying, so Steve wasn't planning on relenting. 

“I was going to give you my cock later, I was going to finally put it in you, but that was when you were behaving,”Steve said. “And because you broke the vibrator on purpose and you're not doing what I ask, you'll be staying in your room during movie night. While I'm spending time with our friends, you're going to get used to the feel of the vibrator...try to keep the noise down.” 

Bucky texted him in the middle of _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom._

_Sir, I'm sorry, come back_

Steve ignored him until the phone vibrated again. 

_I want your cock in me_

_Bucky, I said no._ Even if Steve was always happy when Bucky used his words to directly express a desire or opinion, he was not going to reward Bucky for insubordination. 

_Pleassse? I don't want this toy, I want you_

_NO. Stop it._

_I love you, Steve Rogers, and I only have one arm!_

_No more Nicolas Cage movies_

_AAAHHH! BEEEES!_

Steve guffawed out loud and everyone stared at him. 

**Wednesday Morning**

Steve was a morning person and an early riser, but that morning he got his routines out of the way quickly and spent time making breakfast for Bucky instead. He cooked eggs, fried bacon, blended up fresh smoothies and managed a stack of adequate pancakes. Bucky was the better cook normally, Steve could never get his pancakes as light and fluffy or the bacon as crispy yet somehow not even slightly singed. But this was a special "Punishment's Over and I Forgive You" breakfast. That is, it would be if their debriefing went well. Bucky shuffled out of his bedroom in blue plaid pajama pants and his favorite faded t shirt that he'd picked up at a consignment shop, cute bed head and sleepy eyes. 

"Springsteen, huh?" Steve said. 

"So?" Bucky eyed him warily as he entered the living room. 

"So I'm glad you like him. I do too."

"So what?" 

“Bucky, what the HELL is your problem with the toy I bought you?” Steve demanded. Okay, he'd meant for that to sound a lot calmer. 

“I hate it!” Bucky shook with misery and anger. 

“I'm starting to get that,” Steve snapped. “But _why_?” _Don't yell at him. Do not yell at him_. 

“I don't want to be a robot, don't give me any more robot parts!”

“Oh, Bucky. I didn't mean- I wasn't trying to- I didn't mean to make you think I see you as a robot.” Steven knelt in front of Bucky and held both his hands, angling his head to make Bucky look him in the eye. “You're not a machine. These toys are common now, everybody has them and I thought you'd like it because you like technology. I realize now that it was an offensive choice. I'll look for something with a different texture and color, maybe you can help me pick one out. But you have to speak up when I'm a jerk or I give an order you can't follow. I won't tolerate tantrums. Understand?”

“Yessir.” 

“Good. You need to eat and I made breakfast.” He tugged Bucky into the kitchen, propelling him along with sharp smacks on his ass. “March, soldier.”

**Wednesday Evening**

Sinking to sit on the edge of the wooden bench by his drawing table, Steve put his face in his hands and wept. He cried for Bucky's broken mind, and over his own guilt at how much he was starting to enjoy this new dynamic. It had to be _wrong_. Sometimes he felt _more_ depressed after playing with Bucky. He'd done a search for advice from a Christian point of view but couldn't find anything that first, was welcoming to gay couples or even acknowledged they existed, or even addressed the possibility that the dominant partner might be _the woman_ and second, didn't come with even more confusion. He considered his discipline of Bucky loving, but had little in common with the subculture calling itself LDD. The mere fact that they were two men and not technically married excluded them from discussions about “traditional marriage”. Not that he approved of the way those conversations ended up going but he feared that the absence of forums or advice for men in his situation was a sign he was doing everything wrong from all perspectives. 

He wasn't sure he could even face God in this condition.

And he wanted brain bleach for the articles that had been accidentally included that seemed to be advocating child abuse (or calling out the abuse, while he agreed those people should be called out it didn't make those articles any less upsetting). Everyone was obsessed with eras prior to the 60s, as some sort of Golden Age where everyone stayed in their proper places and women and children obeyed and if they didn't, you could hit them. While he remembered that punishments were certainly much harsher in his own childhood than anyone would tolerate today, parents still understood that their children were fallible human beings who were trying, and treated them with love and understanding to the best of their ability. That aspect seemed to be missing from modern fundamentalist child rearing advice. He cried over the articles telling the stories of the abuse survivors, for their own sakes and because some of the stories sounded like things that were done to Bucky. It was the same, in the end, wasn't it? Destroying someone's individuality, autonomy, sense of empathy, training them like animals into soldiers for a cause. Order Through Pain. 

What kind of person did that make him, what kind of monster was he that he got off on hurting Bucky even when he knew what Bucky had been through?

He couldn't find help anywhere. He was spiraling down and didn't know how to stop. Steve looked up anxiously as he heard men's footsteps in the hall. He couldn't handle it if Bucky walked in on him like this. He was supposed to be the one in control, brave and strong, and having all the answers for both of them. Wasn't that what being in charge meant? 

“What's up?” Sam asked cautiously. He wrapped his knuckles against the doorframe as an afterthought. “I came by to pick Bucky up for the VA meeting but JARVIS just told me he's down in Tony's lab so I was gonna- and then I heard-”

“Am I a bully?” Steve quickly rubbed at his watery eyes. “I'm not abusing Bucky, am I? He's not good at talking, he doesn't tell me what he _wants_ other than me in charge.” 

“You're not an abuser,” Sam said. 

“How do you know?”

“Because you're not,” Sam sighed. “And I told you your friends won't let Bucky get hurt, I even talked to him privately about how he feels about what you do together and look, you're still alive, so Bucky must be okay.” 

“But-”

Sam wheeled the desk chair over to Steve's computer and typed a few words into Google. A minute later he found the information he was searching for. 

“kay, what you're feeling is called Top Drop. Feelings of 'shame and guilt after a bdsm scene'. Apparently, feeling like a monster is totally common. So, you know, if you feel like a dick after dominating someone, it means you're _not_ sick and evil.”

“No?”

“Nope. So stop wallowing, dude.” 

**Thursday**

Steve came home exhausted from helping to train some younger heroes. He didn't want to do anything, even think hard. He kicked off his shoes and flipped on the tv, looking for a dumb sitcom, and then he glanced over at the desk. 

His laptop's browser was open to a blog called Submissive in Seattle. Curiosity got the better of Steve and he sat down to skim it. Three hours later, Steve went to find Bucky. He found him in his own bathroom, shaving with his electric razor. It was a gift from a friend, who thought it would be 'safer', neither Steve nor Bucky had the heart to tell her that if Bucky wanted to hurt himself with household implements, he'd find a way. But Bucky liked the razor because he preferred efficiency in his grooming routine and got excited about modern gadgets. 

“He goes with girls, but he's submissive like me but he's a Christian like you,” Bucky said without looking at him. Steve crossed the tiles to his lover. He'd never heard Bucky label himself that way before, but it made sense, his role had given him focus and security. 

“You cut yourself a little,” he said, fishing out a cotton ball and dabbing the bead of blood gently. Bucky turned around in his arms to kiss his jawline. 

“I love you, Steve,” he said, his voice was almost pleading. “You don't have to be sad.” 

“I know,” Steve said softly. “ I'm not sad anymore because my boy is so smart and helpful.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this into three chapters instead of two, so the porn will have its own chapter. Also, Bucky is dealing with internalized ableism.

**Friday morning**

When they were back on the road, they rode in silence for a few minutes before Bucky tucked a strand of brown hair behind his ear and spoke, hesitantly.

“Sir? I thought I could maybe have a Tumblr?” It started out a statement and ended up a question in the style of someone unused to options, shyly trying to figure out where the boundaries were. 

“I don't mind, it's your allowance,” Steve said. Giving another adult an allowance wasn't _that_ weird, was it? Bucky hadn't exactly gotten a paycheck from Hydra, so he'd come back into Steve's life with no savings or bank account. Not yet cleared for work with SHIELD (which was in a current state of chaos anyway) and with no resume to help him get another job, Bucky was penniless and dependent. Steve didn't want Bucky to have to ask permission to buy little things or to feel like he had to obey or he wouldn't have food and clothing. Tony's accountant had set it up so the payments would be deposited into Bucky's account no matter what, even if Bucky left him or Steve died. “I didn't know you were interested in rocks.”

“It's an online diary,” Bucky said. He smiled a little. “People write diaries and they talk to each other through their posts about the pictures they post and their ideas. It's public so I can't hide it from you and you can read it if you want.” 

“Bucky, I don't need to read your diary,” Steve assured him. It would only cause Bucky to censor himself. “But I do think it's good for you to have a way to express yourself.” It was a great idea, a chance to lessen Bucky's isolation and help him make new friends who were interested in his thoughts rather than his past. Other people should have the chance to discover Bucky's big heart, humor and intelligence. “You can even talk about our sex life, as long as you don't use our real names.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Can I refill my Slushy?” 

“Sure.” Steve pulled into the nearest franchise of the gas station chain. “I gotta get gas anyway. Go on, pick out your stuff while I do that.” He used his credit card to pay at the pump and when he was finished, he went inside to get coffee. Bucky stood in the poorly stocked snack aisle, staring around helplessly. 

“I don't know what to pick.”

“Do you need sugar, salt, or protein more?” Sometimes it helped to leave out aesthetics and focus on options that were pragmatic and objective. “This chocolate, these Doritos or one of those sausage and egg breakfast sandwiches?” 

“Nuts have protein,” Bucky said. He picked up a package of Peanut M&Ms. “ _And_ salt. And this has chocolate. I bet the sandwiches have been out too long.” 

“It's your choice. I'll pay for it with my stuff while you refill your drink.” Steve smiled brightly at the cashier and placed his order of Bucky's candy, his own iced coffee and a doughnut on the counter. She gave him a friendly smile back. 

“That'll be $6.50. You paying for his drink? It's on the house, I have an autistic brother too, I know how hard it can be.” 

“Thanks,” Steve said, handing over the money for their overpriced snacks. “But he'll pay for it. And he's not autistic, he's a veteran. Not that I'm saying there's-” Bucky appeared behind him and slammed the 75 cents down on the counter, glaring at the cashier before he stormed out. “Anyway, have a nice day!” 

“She thought I was retarded,” Bucky muttered as Steve pulled out of the parking lot. Bucky tore into his M &Ms. “Guhh, these are terrible. What the fuck is wrong with this chocolate?”

“I don't think we're supposed to use that word any more,” Steve said. “You're supposed to say 'developmentally disabled'. And I don't think autis-”

“Anyway,” Bucky said. “I'm not the Rain Man.” He threw the M&Ms out the window. “Those taste like _ass_.”

“I'm glad no one saw that,” Steve said. But this was the second time in a week Bucky had tried to express fears about his identity and Steve figured he'd better start listening. “Are you worried about people noticing that you're different?” 

“You mean _disabled_ ,” Bucky said. He stared out the window with an anxious frown. “I didn't think of myself that way during the time I wasn't real. Now I can see that I'm separate and I don't want to be. ”

“You're not separate. You're just...a little different. I know things were done to you that you didn't want but-”

“Do you like doing this, or are you just trying to make me happy?” Bucky asked. Steve pulled into the nearest parking lot, one of those small town rural shopping plazas with a Post Office and a hardware store, a mediocre pizza place and a Dollar Tree. 

“Sometimes I'm confused about what you want from me,” Steve said. He shut the car off. 

“I want you to be in charge.”

“Just because I'm the boss, that doesn't mean I always have the answers. I get scared, and worry that I'm not good enough at this. I need your patience. But every time I've tried to have a serious conversation today, you ask to refill your goddamn Slushy.” 

“But I'm _thirsty_ ,” Bucky replied. He tapped his fingers nervously on the armrest. 

“Bucky! I'm thrilled you found something you enjoy but would you please focus?” 

“Sorry. It's just, you always ask what I want and I still don't know sometimes. I don't want to say the wrong thing,” Bucky said. 

“There's no such thing as the wrong thing if it means I can avoid hurting you in a way you don't want.” This conversation was going in circles, time to put a stop to it. “But this is why I wanted to try safewords. If you would rather have me guess, then I'll guess. I'll choose what, how hard, how long. Instead of saying no or stop, if you want me to stop, you'd say another word, one that I couldn't mistake for anything other than an alternative to “stop”. 

“Bananas,” Bucky said. “Cause I remember how bad they taste now.”

“Write it on your hand so you don't forget.” Steve watched Bucky scrawl it on his skin with a pen. He spelled it wrong, but Steve figured it didn't matter. “Because from the moment I start this car again until Monday morning, that word is the only way you can stop me or refuse an order. This is your last chance to back out without needing the safeword.” 

“What happens if I don't want to change the way we do things?”

“Then we'll have a nice, normal, romantic weekend at our friend's cabin.” Steve leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You ready?"

"Yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky regretted all those times he'd insisted on refilling his drink. He started to shift awkwardly in his seat, causing Steve to glance over with a little smirk. Bastard knew and he wasn't going to pull over. Bucky had excellent control though, he was pretty sure he could win this round. He was not going to give Steve the satisfaction of seeing him beg to pull in at a rest stop. Steve had an evil smirk on his face by the time they rumbled down a narrow, badly paved road to Natasha's contemporary log cabin in a five acre clearing overlooking a crashing waterfall. 

“Do what you gotta do and then bring the rest of the bags in,” Steve said, headed to unlock the cabin. Bucky congratulated himself on making it over to a stand of trees before he ended up embarrassed. 

Steve asked him to set up the grill on Natasha's back deck, and joined him a few minutes later with a bag of jumbo marshmallows (that were weirdly pink), two chocolate bars and a box of graham crackers. He also carried two long metal skewers. Bucky became concerned and inched to the other side of the deck where Steve couldn't reach him. 

“They're for after dinner,” Steve explained. “For making dessert. Come here and help me with the burgers.” He remembered that he could trust Steve not to break his skin with sharp objects, so he came to him and took over flipping the burgers while Steve laid out rolls and cheese and Perrier. Bucky loved cooking alongside Steve, standing pressed next to him while they worked in rhythm. Steve would gently draw fingers over his back, or nuzzle his hair, or brush his hip while he stood at the grill, Bucky smiled up at him and nuzzled him back. 

“Ever had a s'more?” Steve asked after they'd both had a large cheeseburger with champagne mustard and sweet pickles and a tomato slice. 

“A what?” Bucky said. “Let me guess, is it made up of chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers?” 

“It's all the good stuff,” Steve assured him. “Godiva chocolate, the crackers are from Trader Joe's, and I got the marshmallows at this place in Brooklyn that sells nothing but marshmallows. These're strawberry.” 

“So, we put them together like a sandwich?” Bucky asked tentatively. He questioned why anyone would think the world needed an entire store just for marshmallows but Brooklyn had become a very weird place. He didn't remember ever eating one of these, but maybe it was one of those things he and Steve had done as little kids. 

“Yeah, but first we do this.” Steve slid some of the jumbo marshmallows on two metal skewers. He handed one to Bucky and demonstrated holding it over the grill. They held skewers over the flame until the marshmallows started to brown, then Steve quickly pulled his away and spread the warm marshmallow over the piece of chocolate. Bucky imitated him as he placed a second cracker on top and pressed down until the chocolate and marshmallow started to melt together. Bucky picked up the one he'd made and shyly bit into it. He heard himself _moan_ at the overwhelming explosion of sweet, hot, and melty. 

“You like it?” Steve asked. He gave Bucky a gentle smile and used his fingers to wipe away a bit of the filling that had escaped and stained Bucky's lip. Bucky licked the finger, slowly, savoring the scent and taste of chocolate. “Want more?”

Bucky nodded. Steve stood and took the entire plate to the other side of the deck. 

“Come and get it,” Steve said. “On your knees.” 

Bucky crawled over as Steve held the s'more out of his reach. Bucky felt warm and happy, smiling up at Steve like the hopeful puppy he was sure he must look like. Steve fed him another s'more, making a mess that Bucky licked off his fingers again. Bucky moaned around his hand. 

“Look at you,” Steve murmured, petting his hair. Bucky rubbed his nose against the bulge of Steve's crotch and he heard Steve sigh. “Not yet, be still. Just be still for awhile.” Just kneeling there helped Bucky sink down into the headspace he needed. He had to trust Steve when he was trying to coax him to go under. When Bucky started to go slack, Steve maneuvered them both to sit on a large wooden swing under the awning and they sat and watched nature in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting over the trees and it was a whole pallet of pinks, oranges, and reds, a little purple around the edges. 

“Sometime this weekend, I'm going to spank you so long and so hard,” Steve murmured into his hair, “that your butt's gonna look just like that.” 

Bucky dropped his food. That was just like Steve, coming off all nice and polite and chaste then getting you alone and promising filthy things.

“The mosquitoes are out,” Steve said. “Clean up the food and come inside.” Steve had music playing softly and he'd dimmed the lights by the time Bucky was finished putting things away. Natasha's décor was typical hunting lodge style, rustic and masculine with braided rugs, plaid upolstery and a real stag head mounted on the wall. There wasn't much of a trace of sophisticated world traveling female spies in the setup. Except for the scented candles, which Steve had lit. They smelled like cinnamon and pumpkin pie, Bucky found the smell comforting and his anticipation increased. There was a rectangular box sitting next to Steve on the couch. 

“Sinatra,” Bucky observed. "I almost saw him...in Vegas...once. They wouldn't let me stay." Steve glanced over at him, their eyes locked, tense and nervous. Steve was in his underwear, already bulging in the front. There was pure _want_ in Steve's eyes, they poured over Bucky's body like Bucky was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And just not in the way a machine or a painting was beautiful, Steve thought he was a beautiful _person_. Sometimes it made Bucky light up from the inside, sometimes it made him want to curl up and die. Tonight he felt lit up. 

“Strip, and then come to me,” Steve said. Bucky quickly moved to comply. “No. Slower.” He complied, trying to inject some coy flirtyness into the act, ducking behind his hair and pretending to be shy. “Don't hide,” Steve added. Bucky changed it up, he projected confidence as he stalked toward Steve, a challenge in his eyes. Steve let out this barely audible breathy _noise_. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. Bucky knelt. Steve reached out and traced a finger over Bucky's dog tags, that served as his mark of ownership, their own personal twist on a collar. He placed his palm on the top of Bucky's head and gently pushed him down until Bucky's head rested in Steve's lap. Bucky sank down gratefully, needing to be grounded and safe before anything else. Steve rubbed light circles over his upper back. 

“Which do you want tonight? Mean Steve or Nice Steve?”

“Nice, please. Good Bucky or Bad Bucky?” 

“I'm a little tired, can you be good for me?”

“Yessir.” 

“Then come up here,” Steve said. Bucky straddled his lap, their naked cocks brushed against each other. Seeing Steve happy and thinking about how nice it was being close to him was what got Bucky excited and he'd learned about needing to show Steve explicitly that he wanted- _needed_ to be touched, because Steve worried that he wasn't interested if he didn't get hard quickly enough.

Bucky balanced by gripping Steve's big shoulders, and slowly moved his hips, little shocks of pleasure shot through his body every time their cocks brushed. Steve pulled his face down for kisses. No matter what, this part was always nice, and Bucky loved grinding against Steve, whether he controlled the pace or Steve grabbed his hips and _moved him_. He was so hard, and moaning into Steve's mouth, when he felt fingers slip between his ass and circle slowly around his hole. He whimpered and tried to pull away. 

“Shhh. Be still,” Steve murmured. “You know what you have to say if you don't want this.” He pushed the finger inside, a minute later he added another one, using his other hand to rub Bucky's back. Steve moved Bucky so he sat on the couch with his thighs apart and his knees pushed up to his shoulders. Steve sank to his knees. He took out that bottle of lube Bucky knew he kept in the bathroom at home, and squirted some on his fingers, and put them slowly back inside Bucky. It was weird, and it hurt a little, until Steve's fingers found some secret spot inside him that had them both wide eyed and gasping. Bucky actually whined when Steve took his fingers away. The object Steve took out of the box on the couch was shaped like the other toy, the one Bucky broke but the material was different, pinkish and soft looking. “Look at me. I want you to try this for me.”

Bucky bit his lip and nodded. Steve pressed the tip inside him, pressing a button on the base of the toy that sent a pleasant, gentle buzzing over Bucky's ass and cock. Steve pushed it in further, Bucky opened for him, groaning at the invasion. Steve hooked Bucky's legs over his shoulders as he bent down to take Bucky in his mouth. 

Bucky covered his own mouth before the ecstatic cries escaped, until he remembered they had no neighbors up here. Steve turned up the speed of the vibrations and Bucky _lost it_. He babbled , and swore, and squealed as he came in Steve's mouth. When Steve picked him up and carried him to bed, and put him on his hands and knees, and took him, Bucky completely forgot to be afraid, he didn't understand why he ever had been.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: LOTS of spanking, unorthodox use of vegetables, needing to safeword, H/C

“Mean Steve, or Nice Steve?” Steve woke Bucky by kissing him lightly on the forehead. 

“Mean Steve,” Bucky admitted sleepily. “Mean Steve and Bad Bucky.” He stretched like a cat in the shaft of sunlight that came in through the window. Steve was already up and dressed, he did twenty push ups before coming back to curl up on the bed with Bucky. Bucky just watched and grinned.

“Those _noises_. God, Bucky, I didn't expect that.”

“You were kind of attacking me on all fronts, it was a lot to take,” Bucky said. “I've never...with a man. Never done that. Had a man inside me” He'd done other things, willingly (Steve told him they'd been together before he fell, and he was starting to remember more details about that) and he thought he might have done some things he didn't want to do, with people he'd rather not remember. But he wasn't sure. They'd kept him ignorant of how his body worked and innocent of desire, he remembered, with embarrassment, how he'd panicked over his first post-recovery orgasm. He couldn't reconcile that person with the one he'd read about, who was unashamedly sexual. It was the confusion of both types of memories that had led to that tug of war between fear and want. 

“I've never done that with anyone,” Steve confessed. He turned red and ducked his head sheepishly. “I mean, I've done stuff but...” 

“Shut up!” Bucky gasped. “No way!” He hit Steve with a pillow. 

“No one wanted me except you and we were too innocent to think of that. Then everything went crazy. And I've been real busy the last couple of years. I almost got a date with this woman who lived in my building but it turned out she was a SHIELD agent sent to keep tabs on me.” 

“We oughta celebrate,” Bucky said. “Go into town and find a place that does a giant artery clogging breakfast.” Steve had done a fantastic job of faking like he knew what he was doing, Bucky was impressed. Impressed and a little sore. “Think if we told them we'd get a free meal?”

They ate a big stack of peanut butter pancakes and bacon at a local diner, took a long nature walk by the falls, and then Steve suggested they check out the local farmer's market. They didn't hold hands, but they might as well have been as they strolled the booths. Bucky noticed they got a lot of appreciative looks, he tried to smile back at people the way he'd been practicing in the mirror. He bought a blueberry pie from a nice old lady because she talked to him and said he reminded her of her grandson. He figured he was actually old enough to be her father. He caught up with Steve at a booth selling hand carved wooden items. 

“Look at this hairbrush,” Steve said. “It's all real rosewood. They actually woodburned an old timey scene on the back.”

“That's real quaint, Steve,” Bucky said. “Maybe you can brush my hair later and put it ribbons.”

“Be careful what you joke about today,” Steve said. “I bought it for nostalgic reasons.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “Oh...”

“And if you get too sassy with me, I won't hesitate to take you back to the car and help you remember,” Steve added as he bought some cheese, maple syrup and a bulb of ginger. Bucky instantly began contemplating how he could 'get too sassy'. 

“You want to make Chinese tonight?” Bucky gestured to the ginger. “Cause you're not very good at that.”

“Not for making Chinese,” Steve said airily. 

“Bored,” Bucky said a few minutes later. He wasn't bored. He didn't bore easily, you couldn't if you were a sniper, when your job involved waiting for long periods of time in uncomfortable positions. And everything about being free and no longer an enslaved weapon fascinated him. He could have strolled the market all day, sampling every kind of new food and listening to people talk. Steve was just really easy to rile up. Always had been, Bucky was the patient one. 

“Shush.”

“Come on, Steve. Can't we do something _else_ now?”

“Stop it.”

“Borrreddd.” 

“Alright, that is it,” Steve snapped. Bucky felt a thrill run through him as Steve grabbed his wrist and marched him back to the car. He didn't have to let Steve drag him around, there was something exciting about being manhandled though, it was part of the game. The power in giving up your power. Going willingly to pain out of love, not conditioning or fear. He was pushed face down on the passenger's seat, before he could catch his breath he felt a stinging smack on his right ass cheek. Then on his left, and his right, and his left, the hairbrush came down rapidly, hard but not with Steve's full strength behind it. Bucky stuck his ass out and whimpered hopefully, which got him a few more purposeful licks before Steve's large hand rubbed over his cheeks, and Steve said in a comforting voice, “Are you going to be naughty any more?” 

“Yes,” Bucky admitted. 

“Then I guess I'm taking my naughty boy home to teach him a lesson.” 

“Oh, please do, sir,” Bucky said. It started to rain as Steve drove down terribly maintained back roads. When they returned to Nat's cabin, Steve told Bucky to strip and pushed past him to put the food in the fridge. Steve didn't strip. Bucky was always so disappointed when Steve kept his clothes on, it was like he was purposely withholding his gorgeous body to make Bucky _suffer_. 

“Ready, bad boy?” He was carrying that evil hairbrush again, he wasted no time bending Bucky over the arm of the couch. It was long, and it was hard, his lover beat his bottom like a drum, Bucky kicked and moaned at the fire building up on his skin but he didn't seriously try to fight. Finally, Steve let him up, they were both breathing hard and sweaty. 

“Go out and cut a switch. Don't dawdle and if I catch you rubbing your ass, I'll get the brush again.” This wasn't the kind of humiliation Steve could ever visit on him at home, he was reveling in it, and despite the burning embarrassment of going outside naked, Bucky was almost proud that his punished rear was proof he belonged to Steve. Bucky could hear Steve counting down by the time he found a suitable branch, broke it off and made it back to the cabin. “Five. Four. Three Two. Ah, there you are.” 

Soaking wet, Bucky held the birch out, biting his lip and looking at the floor. Steve seemed to be in a nostalgic mood tonight, or rather, a parody of nostalgia since probably neither of them had ever been switched. Tree branches weren't the first thing your parents reached for when you lived in the city.  
“You look like an angry wet kitten,” Steve snickered. Then he schooled his face into the famous Captain America Look of Disapproval. “And you're dripping on the floor. We can't have that.” He swung Bucky over his shoulder, carried him into the living room and deposited him on the fur rug in front of the lit fireplace. He looked a little pained as he set Bucky down. Bucky's metal arm added weight, weight that hadn't been there when they used to know each other and he'd had to add a little more muscle over the years to perform to Hydra's standards. Still, Bucky appreciated it, that Steve was willing and able to pick up the world's deadliest assassin and move him where ever he wanted, the only person in the world not the least bit afraid of him. “Bend over, hands on the mantle.” 

His legs shook, he had to dig his metal hand into the stones of the mantle to avoid running away or falling over. He was aware he might've been yelling (“ _no, no, no, please, please stop!_ ) by the time Steve threw the switch down and stalked off. He left Bucky by himself for what felt like forever but was probably only twenty minutes. 

His ass felt swollen, every inch of it hurt, he wanted to cover up, yet he wanted to keep showing it off. He wanted to be touched with soothing hands, and he wanted to be left alone to cry it out. 

“These look like you right now.” Steve sat nearby on a cushioned wooden bench, casually snacking on the leftover strawberry marshmallows. He'd taken his clothes off at some point while Bucky was staring into the fire. He was definitely hard, big cock sticking out proudly. 

“That w-why you bought them?” Bucky sniffed. He shook with the effort of holding back tears, they were building behind his eyes, the pressure gave him a headache. 

“Happy coincidence. Aww, come here.” 

Bucky padded over cautiously, even though he wanted to run into Steve's arms. He stuffed some of his fingers in his mouth to avoid the temptation to rub when he'd been explicitly told not to, he wanted so badly to be good. The gesture seemed to provoke a fire in Steve's eyes which in turn made Bucky's heart pound harder. 

“Straddle my thigh,” Steve ordered. “That's right. Lean forward.” Bucky found his face pressed against the cushion, thighs spread, leaving his hole obscenely exposed. Steve started to smack his ass, light taps that got harder and sharper, but they were on top of the marks from the brush and switch, which made Bucky whimper and cry out pathetically. He shifted his hips, rubbing frantically against Steve's bare thigh to ease the ache in his cock, whenever Steve's hand smacked over his hole, he cried out and wiggled, knowing he was putting on quite the show but unable to help it. A couple of tears slid out, his head hurt worse than ever. 

“Gonna try something new,” Steve said. His hands left Bucky's skin for a moment before Bucky felt his finger circle and carefully penetrate Bucky's entrance. And Steve was pushing something inside him that wasn't a finger or a cock _or the vibrator_. He wriggled, trying to adjust to the vaguely warm feeling. This must have been what Steve wanted the ginger root for. And that was weird, Bucky didn't understand but he was nervous about questioning it. Steve started to spank him hard again, Bucky writhed on his thigh, trying to rub his cock, trying to avoid the slaps, trying to get more of them. But after a few minutes, every time he moved or clenched, the ginger root hurt more and more until it started to _burn_. He wanted to do this for Steve so badly, the thought of disobeying by not wanting this was almost too much for him to deal with but he couldn't take it it. _He couldn't take it_. 

“Bananas!” He howled. “Take it out. _Please, please, take it out!_

Steve reached down and pulled the ginger root out as quickly as he could and wrapped his arms around Bucky, who sobbed like a miserable little boy, from the pain as well as the shame of letting Steve down, of not being able to take it for him. 

“I'm sorry!”

“Shh,” Steve said, and rocked him, and kissed his hair. “What are you sorry about?”

“Using the safeword,” Bucky wept. How could he be so weak, and such a failure at completing the task? 

“No, Buck. No, that's what safewords are _for_. I-I wanted to push you, to-to show you that you could stop me, no matter what we were doing. I had to get you to say it, no matter how many times I tried to _tell_ you, 'use your words and tell me when you don't like something and _I'll stop because I love you_ ', it wasn't getting through.” 

“Asshole!” Bucky sobbed, thwapping Steve's chest. “Fuck'in bastard! F-” 

“C'mon, let's get you cleaned up,” Steve said. “Get in a nice bath.” Bucky allowed himself to be led to the bathroom, where Steve filled the tub and while they waited, he wiped Bucky's tears, and petted him, and told him he was a good boy who made Steve so very happy. He gently washed Bucky's hair, one of his favorite ways to take care of him. Not able to stay mad at him for long, Bucky pressed up against him eagerly, craving his touch as they washed each other. He stroked Steve's cock. 

“Can I have this now?” He asked with a tilt of his head. 

“Of course, baby. You probably don't feel like riding me, do you?” 

Bucky shook his head. He was emotionally exhausted and it hurt too much back there, but it was nice, rocking their hips together until they both spurted in the soapy water. 

“You called me baby,” Bucky laughed as they dried each other with big fluffy towels. 

“Is that alright?” Steve sounded worried. 

“It's fine. You never said that before. I like it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short wrap up. Maybe I'll do some more in the future but I wanted to end this one while I was still into it.

Steve's phone rang while he was rubbing cooling lotion on Bucky's skin. It was Sam. Steve put on a robe and took it out to the back porch, where he sheltered from the rain under the plastic awning. 

“How's Booty Palooza going?” 

“Let me guess, that one was Tony's?”

“Yeah. Not my fault. But it was a serious question,” Sam said. “And no, they don't know your secret. I am a _vault_.” 

“It's been great. I'm not kidding. We've worked through a lot. Nice just having alone time. We'll probably be back around noon on Monday.”

“Yeah, hope the city's not attacked by aliens until then,” Sam joked. “Can I talk to the Buckster?” 

“He's- he's not up to talking right now,” Steve admitted. “But you can call him tomorrow morning when he's- when he's feeling up to it.” 

“Oh,” Sam said. “Ohhh. Listen, that other thing you were worried about? About finding other people who understand, well, I think I can help. More info when you're back in town.”

When Steve hung up and went back to the bathroom, Bucky wasn't there. Steve found him dressed in silk pjs, kneeling on the floor by the bed. Bucky wrapped his mouth around Steve's cock, thanking him enthusiastically for all the punishment. Steve came hard down his throat, Bucky pulled back, coughing but trying to be discreet about it. 

“I didn't tell you to get dressed.”

“I'm cold, sir,” Bucky said. “And I -and my head hurts.” From all the crying, most likely. Steve grabbed two aspirin and a half a glass of water, fed them to Bucky and made him drink. “I tried to like the ginger but I just couldn't. So I tried to make it up to you and I guess I don't feel well right now.” He was shivering, maybe it was some sort of delayed reaction. Steve would just have to cuddle him extra close under the blankets.

“Up on the bed,” Steve ordered. He picked up the hairbrush, Bucky looked concerned. “Don't worry, you don't have another one coming. Your hair is all messy. Bucky, you're allowed to hate things I like, and within reason, ask not to do them. You're not my slave. I don't want you to ever be afraid to tell me the truth, and I think you're getting so much better at that.” Privately, he'd noticed that when they'd framed it as a silly game, it seemed like Bucky had enjoyed answering back, not listening and in general, being a brat. And using “punishment” as foreplay helped him feel safe, playing at being naughty, then playing at putting him back in his place, let him experiment with ideas he might otherwise be afraid of exploring. “You want to do this once a month? Just come up here and get everything out of our systems?”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmured. “This was too intense for everyday. I don't need you to hurt me all the time, I just need you to be the boss.” 

“Well, I was actively trying to get you to tell me to stop,” Steve said. When he'd left Bucky alone after giving him a whipping with the switch, it had been to compose himself. To clear his head so he'd last until they both got what they wanted. He knew he could've made Bucky do whatever he wanted, for as long as he wanted, and it made him both hard and desperate not to start crying. “But, I know. You feel safer with rules. Maybe you wanna review them with me?”

“Keep the house clean. Respect and take care of your property, including myself, which means keeping myself clean and in shape, and telling you if I feel sick or get hurt.” Bucky turned around so Steve could run the brush through his hair. “Go to all my doctors appointments. Be quiet and respectful in public. Don't throw tantrums, explain my feelings. And ...don't kill anyone.” 

“And I have my rules too. To take care of you. Listen and understand, and not try to give you more than you can deal with.” Steve wrapped an elastic around Bucky's ponytail. 

“And love me,” Bucky said, beaming at him hopefully. Steve swatted him on the ass with the brush. 

“And love you _forever_.”


End file.
